Off Balance
by FERGUS738
Summary: Is there ever a "normal" during wartime; especially in a prisoner of war camp? Just when our heroes are becoming comfortable with their new roles as saboteurs behind enemy lines, someone unintentionally stirs things up by giving them a different perspective from which to view the war. Some swearing throughout. Takes place between the black & white pilot and the first episode.
1. Chapter 1

I posted the first few chapters of this story to Fanfiction quite a while ago under a different rating. This is the edited version with a "T" rating. I'd like to thank Gunney for all of the great suggestions. This story takes place very, very early in the first season; right after the pilot. This is my first Hogan's Heroes fan fiction. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I'm not making any money writing this.

**Off Balance**

Chapter 1

The last full moon in the autumn of 1942 was brilliant and robust in a cloudless sky, inviting all forest creatures under its watchful eye to one last exploration before winter arrived. The wind was shifting from playful to powerful, and the temperature had begun to plummet. But the moon's invitation could not be ignored as it brightly illuminated the German countryside. Long, dancing shadows were cast from the mighty trees over leaf covered ground that made up the forest surrounding Stalag 13.

Like the fulltime inhabitants of the forest, three intrepid men were also out seeking provisions for the long winter ahead. Tonight's air drop from London was eagerly anticipated since it was to be larger than usual; containing an ironic assortment of emergency medical supplies as well as explosives and ammunition, just in case future air drops were canceled due to foul winter weather in the upcoming weeks. Unfortunately, the supply laden crate had been blown off course due to the strengthening winds, making Kinch, Newkirk and Carter travel farther and search longer for it than anybody had planned.

The silhouette of a parachute briefly passed across the rotund face of the moon. The nocturnal forest denizens did not notice, but there were more than only three pairs of watchful eyes cast upwards following the parachute's unpredictable descent.

This supply delivery method was still in its infancy, so Hogan was testing the boundaries of what was possible. His men were too. They all requested that beautiful women be included in the air drop; each man listing which vital statistics they preferred. Kinch was looking for a tall goddess who loved jazz, Carter a cute country girl with freckles and a great set of legs, Newkirk fancied a bombshell who had a great sense of humor, while LeBeau was hoping for _une femme courte et belle_ who was as insatiable a romantic as he. Hogan allowed his men's flights of fancy, but did nothing to encourage them by describing the type of woman he would prefer. He tried his best not to think of women, because it reminded him of yet something else he volunteered to go without, or at best, to endure lengthy periods of unavoidable abstinence, when he accepted his current mission. However, that did not stop Hogan from requesting, among the other supplies, for London to include explosives _and_ detonators at the same time, as well as fragile replacement parts for their radio. It was this unusual air drop that Kinch, Newkirk and Carter were searching for in the forest.

"Blimey, Carter! Watch where you're goin'. I've lost count 'ow many times you've stepped on me foot or bumped into me since we left camp." Newkirk griped as he pushed the young sergeant out of his personal space.

"Gee sorry, Newkirk. The wind's really picking up something fierce and it's blowing the parachute in 10 different directions at once. I'm trying to keep my eye on it."

"What I'd like to know is 'ow you ever earned the name, Little Deer That Runs Swift and Sure Through Forest. * The only thing you're runnin' through tonight is me!"

"Will you two knock it off? We're on a mission, not a stroll in the park. We're supposed to be professionals, which means we're supposed to be quiet," Kinch looked directly at Newkirk, "and careful." Kinch then looked directly at Carter in order to drive home his point.

"It's too easy for things to get messed up out here because of stuff we can't control, like this crazy wind. It's blown the chute way off target. So let's concentrate on finding it and getting back to camp without any trouble, okay?"

The moonlight enabled Kinch to see the hurt expression on Carter's face and the surprise on Newkirk's face. They reminded him of his two younger brothers when they got caught misbehaving. Breaking the tension, Kinch couldn't stop himself from saying, "Now don't make me separate you two."

That was enough to make everybody grin.

"Right, Dad!" With that, Newkirk smirked and gave Carter a brotherly shove in the direction he last saw the parachute take.

_5 minutes later…_

"Hold up, fellas," Kinch whispered. "Searching this way is getting us nowhere. Let's split up and look for it. We'll meet at the northwest corner of that bombed out factory in 30 minutes. See it over there at 2 o'clock?"

Close to the edge of the forest was a looming skeleton of charred brick walls with menacing, jagged gaps revealing where windows once looked out onto the trees. It was all that remained of a once productive munitions factory that Hogan and his men "visited" earlier that fall. Now it was a silent labyrinth of slanted walls, twisted metal, and rubble.

"If we haven't found the supplies by then, we'll have to head back to camp and hope that nobody else finds them till we try again tomorrow night. The Colonel would hand me my head on a platter if we missed morning roll call."

"Sounds like a plan to me," agreed Newkirk as he briskly rubbed his hands together desperately trying to warm them.

"The last thing I want to do is come back out 'ere tomorrow night freezin' me arse off while dodging patrols; especially with Carter tripping over every ruddy stone 'n root between 'ere 'n camp. Blimey, Carter. You've been as subtle as a bloody brass band tonight, you 'ave. Need me to 'old your ruddy hand?"

"Newkirk, lay off Carter. Nobody's gotten lost or hurt yet, so no harm done. I bet that the supplies landed in that bombed out factory, so let's go search in that area." Kinch gave Carter a quick pat on the back for encouragement then noiselessly headed out of the trees.

Unfortunately, Carter silently agreed with Newkirk's unsolicited assessment of his performance so far tonight, so he decided not to tell his companions that he managed to break his watch the first time he fell. He quickly calculated that he'd have to count 1,800 "Mississippis" to keep track of time in order to make it back to the rendezvous point in a half an hour. Satisfied that he did the math correctly, Carter followed Kinch out of the forest, silently counting.

"_One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi…"_

"Aw, Kinch. Why'd ya have to go 'n say nobody's gotten hurt _**yet**_?" Newkirk complained as he followed his two companions out into the open. Kinchloe's choice of words didn't help ease Newkirk's anxiety about the way tonight's mission was going. He hoped that it was not an omen of trouble to come.

They split up to search the ruins, not realizing that a keen set of amber colored eyes had been watching them since they arrived, and unfortunately the falling parachute had also captured the attention of others.

* Little Deer Who Runs Swift and Sure Through Forest was introduced in Season Three. This story takes place very early in Season 1, between the black and white pilot and the first episode in color. I'm sorry, but I took literary license with the time line. I just couldn't pass up using it.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

"One thousand two hundred thirty-two Mississippi. One thousand two hundred thirty-three Mississippi. One thousand two hundred thirty-four Missi… Hey! That's pretty neat; one, two, three, four Mississippi!."

Carter decided to head back to the rendezvous point ahead of schedule to make certain that he wouldn't be late. He figured that the way his luck was running tonight, he wasn't going to be the one to find the supplies anyway, so why not head back now. He hadn't seen either Kinch or Newkirk since they all split up, so he wasn't going to take any chances on screwing up anymore than he already had, by making them wait for him. As he turned the final corner to arrive at the clearing between the woods and the ruins, he was trying to guess what supplies London had sent them this time. He'd love to find a Famous Funnies comic book, or better yet, a copy of Popular Science magazine; even a copy of Reader's Digest would be a treat. Carter grinned at the thought...

"Halt!"

Carter froze instantly. Without a doubt, halt was the one word on the entire planet that he hated to hear the most, and he certainly didn't want to hear it tonight. It was never heard when things were going smoothly, and it was always an order spit out by uniformed goons who would actually rather that he not "Halt!" That way they would have a better excuse to shoot him than "they just felt like it."

Even though his body was still, his mind immediately began running possible escape scenarios while his blue eyes quickly surveyed the terrain. Unfortunately the woods were a good 30 feet in front of him, and the moon lit up his escape route like a Broadway stage.

_I wouldn't even make it half way to the trees before they shot me. They're so close I can smell the sauerbraten on their breath._

Carter had no idea how many Germans had him in their gun sights since he didn't hear them as they approached him from behind, but he was certain that he wasn't about to test their patience by turning around to get a look at them. Since Krauts never travel alone, Carter was also certain that he was outnumbered as well as out maneuvered.

_Where the heck did these goons come from? Are there anymore lurking around? I sure hope the guys don't get caught. Newkirk is going to kill me if the goons don't first!_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Ello, ello, ello. And what do we 'ave 'ere? Blimey, this is bigger than me first flat in Stepney. No way I'm carrin' this back to the rendezvous point."

Newkirk had been searching through a maze of toppled bricks and destroyed machinery on the west end of the complex closest to the tree line. He had a hunch that was where the parachute landed, and he always went with his hunches.

"Guess good looks and luck wins out over brains and… and... whatever Carter 'as. I'll make a nice frock out of this silk, and now this can't advertise its location to any bad guys who might be lurkin' around." Newkirk said to himself as he quickly stowed the parachute in the bottom of his backpack.

"Let's open this beauty up and take a gander at the goodies what London thinks we need." Newkirk took out his pencil sharpener to pry the lid off.

"Just once I'd like to open up one of these crates 'n find a lovely English bird instead of ruddy supplies. Actually, I'd take a lovely bird from any country."

A frigid gust of wind howled as it whipped through the ruins, making Newkirk glad he had worn his overcoat instead of just his flight jacket. "Blimey that's cold! Can't believe I'm 'bout to say this, but right now I'd go for long underwear 'n thick wool socks instead of a bird." His teeth actually chattered as he amiably held a hushed conversation with himself.

"Medical supplies… dynamite…" Newkirk quickly checked the box's contents and was underwhelmed.

"No bird and no long underwear. Oh well, at least it's found."

He loaded the medical supplies and some of the other lighter things in his pack. Chuckling, he thought, "My reward for finding the bloody crate is gettin' to choose what I lug back to camp."

Using nearby debris, Newkirk quickly hide the crate, making sure that he would be able to find it when he returned with Carter and Kinchloe. Satisfied with his work, Newkirk shouldered his backpack and started back to the rendezvous point with a smile on his face, remembering how he spent his last Bomber's Moon in England...

Suddenly the quiet of the night was broken by a harsh command shouted somewhere off in the distance.

"Halt!"

Newkirk's thoughts instantly switched from romantic trysts to alert and rescue. Somewhere up ahead toward the rendezvous point, one or both of his friends had gotten into serious trouble. Newkirk ran as silently as he could, hoping that he was not going to be too late.

Gunshots!

Dozens of rapid fire shots shattered the relative quiet of the night. Newkirk gave up any pretense of stealth and broke into an all-out run. What he saw when he arrived at the clearing made his blood freeze. Just as in his worst nightmare, Carter's body was lying face down on the ground with blood all over his back. There were also three Germans lying on the ground behind him. None of them were moving. But positioned between Newkirk and the four fallen men, were two other German soldiers slowly moving towards the four, but for some reason their guns were aimed up at the trees.

The two soldiers did not hear Newkirk arrive. Without hesitating, Newkirk pulled out his gun. Two shots were fired; two soldiers fell dead. The moonlight added a macabre finality to the gaping holes newly created at the base of their skulls. Newkirk noticed in the brief moment he took to glance, but he didn't care. He didn't bother to stop and check them; he could think of nothing but getting to Carter. Newkirk ran straight to where his fallen friend lay, but hesitated for a moment when he reached Carter's body, intensely afraid of what he would find. Carter's cap still covered his head, and his black gloves continued to cover his hands as they almost always did, but everything looked so wrong. His body lay discarded amongst the brittle grasses and brown leaves of late autumn, and instead of Carter's enthusiastic chatter, only the lonesome wail of the wind broke the silence.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Oh no… Andrew. No." Newkirk's voice was barely a whisper. The sight of his close friend lying so still was too much for the young English corporal to bear. Fallen leaves caught in the chill wind whirled around Carter's body in a ghoulish dance; a few sticking to the dark blood slowly streaming down his well-worn bomber's jacket. Tears ran down Newkirk's sorrow stricken face. He crumpled to his knees next to his fallen friend as if the sight had drained all of the strength from his trembling body. Hesitant to confirm the fate of his poor friend, Newkirk gently put his hand on Carter's shoulder to turn him over.

"Andrew, please be alive, mate. Please." Newkirk whispered.

Suddenly, relieved blue eyes were looking up into tear filled gray eyes.

"Newkirk! Boy, am I glad to see you, buddy! Suddenly the entire place was crawling with Krauts. I didn't know who was walking up to me, so I played dead until I knew for sure. Why didn't you say something? I was going crazy not knowing..."

Carter was stopped in mid-sentence when Newkirk's arms swooped around and gathered him up in a huge hug; more for Newkirk's reassurance that Carter was indeed alive and well, than for Carter's wellbeing. It took a moment for Newkirk to accept that he held a man instead of a corpse in his arms, and that his eyes were not deceiving him; his young friend was indeed alive!

Carter was stunned at Newkirk's reaction until he took a moment to view the nearby carnage. This was the first time he actually saw the three dead Nazis laying just a few feet behind where he had stood, and then the two dead Nazis farther away that Newkirk shot. He couldn't help but shudder when it dawned on him that the man who was almost squeezing the life out of him in joy and relief, had moments earlier efficiently ended the lives of two human beings. Carter didn't even know the other two were in the area; not until they had opened fire. That was when Carter dove to the ground in hopes of making himself a much smaller target. At the time he wasn't aware that the two Germans were aiming up at the trees and not at him.

Newkirk's hug lasted only a few seconds, but it rejuvenated his traumatized spirit. Quickly wiping away the tears, Newkirk released his young friend, jumped up, and then lent Carter a helping hand up.

Regaining his composure, Newkirk griped, "Carter! Don't you **ever **do that to me again! Me poor ol' ticker nearly stopped when I saw you laying there still as death itself, all bloody, surrounded by dead Germans. Cor blimey! I thought I lost ya, mate. I don't ever want to go through that again."

"You and me both, buddy! I don't mind telling you that I was pretty scared when I got captured, but then all of a sudden the Krauts behind me started dropping like flies, but no shots were fired; at least not until I heard a loud whistle coming from the trees. You know, the kind of whistle you can whistle when you put two fingers on your lips and blow real hard."

Carter put two fingers up to his lips to demonstrate, but Newkirk quickly grabbed his hands and pulled them away from Carter's mouth.

"Andrew! We've already made more bloody noise 'ere than a freight train. Let's not make anymore while we're still muckin' bout in the presence of five dead Germans. It wouldn't do to be found 'ere. Even I couldn't talk our way out of this mess, even if I knew what actually 'appened."

Realizing that Newkirk was right, Carter never the less was frustrated that he wasn't allowed to whistle. The least he could do was finish telling Newkirk his story. "Anyway, that was when those other two," Carter tilted his head towards the two other dead Germans, "started all the shooting so I hit the dirt."

But before Carter had a chance to continue, Newkirk grabbed Carter and spun him around so he could get a good look at the back of his bomber jacket. There were numerous trails of blood, and pieces of nasty, oozing bits that Newkirk didn't want to know the origin of, but no holes. He actually pressed his finger to the largest, bloodiest spot to ease his troubled mind that none of the gruesome mess had come from, or caused his young friend any harm.

"Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but I 'ave to ask you. Andrew, just 'ow did you manage to make it through all of this in one piece? Exactly what happened 'ere? You're surrounded by dead Germans without so much as a scratch! 'old on. If you're in one piece, then where did the blood on the back of your bomber jacket come from?"

"Blood? What blood? I didn't get hit. Honest!" Carter looked over his shoulder as far as he could, pulling his jacket up trying to see what Newkirk was talking about. He managed to step on Newkirk's foot as he turned in tight circles looking very much like a skinny dog chasing its own tail.

"Ow! Carter, watch where you're going! Apparently being surrounded by dead Germans hasn't effected your basic charm and grace." Newkirk complained.

Suddenly Carter forgot about the blood on his jacket as he recalled recent events, and abruptly grabbed Newkirk and started to pull him towards the trees.

"Come on! We have to find him!" Carter released Newkirk from his grip and dashed towards the trees.

"Andrew! Stop! Find who?"

"Those lousy Krauts shot at him. He could be hurt… or worse!"

"WHO? Who the bloody hell are you talking about, mate?" Newkirk had second thoughts about racing towards a foreboding, dark forest, especially knowing that Germans were in the area, but he was not going to let Carter out of his sight for one second, so he sped up.

As if to answer Newkirk's question, a weak moan emanated from just inside the forest.

"Oh God, Newkirk. He's hurt. Help me find him."

Newkirk grabbed Carter's arm and spun him around. "Andrew, I need to know what's going on before I let you go racing off into woods out of sight!" When Carter tried to break free, Newkirk just gripped him harder.

"Newkirk, somebody saved me before you saved me."

"What? You sure you didn't whack your 'ead? You're talking crazy, even for you."

"When I heard "Halt!" I froze. I didn't even turn around, but I could tell that the Germans were pretty close behind me. All of a sudden, I felt a whosh right past my left ear, then I heard a loud thunk, and felt something splatter on the back of my jacket. I heard somebody fall down... dead, I guess. A second later I heard another whosh, then somebody else fell down. He was making terrible gurgling and gasping sounds, like he had something wrong with his throat... he…he didn't die…right away."

Newkirk was barely able to contain himself listening to what Carter had had to endure, but his retelling it was taking much too long for the impatient Englishman.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Mean while...

Kinch ran as if the devil himself was chasing him, so he was winded by the time he rounded the final corner of the destroyed munitions factory. Kinch had already made deals with God, Yahweh, Buddha, Allah and any other deity that he could think of to call upon. He would gladly give anything for divine help to tip the odds in his friends' favor so that they would actually survive the gun battle he heard. The barrage of bullets was hard enough to listen to, but those final two shots a short time later felt like a sledge hammer crashing into his chest. He couldn't shake the horrible vision of Newkirk and Carter lying dead on the cold ground, shot execution style.

_We should've stayed together. I was the one who said we should split up. I wasn't there when they needed me. Oh God! What have I done? This can't be happening!_

But when the tall sergeant finally saw his two friends standing in the clearing, relief flooded his dark thoughts, enabling him to cover the rest of the distance in record time.

"Man, am I glad to see you two! When I heard all that shooting, I thought for sure that you were dead. Is anybody hurt?"

"I've aged a decade thanks to Carter 'ere, but besides that, we're both okay."

"Kinch! Boy, am I glad you're here! Did you know this place is crawling with Krauts?"

"Well, we are in Germany, Carter." Newkirk quipped.

Kinch took a quick look around and shook his head in amazement. "You're not lying about that, Andrew. What exactly happened here?"

Newkirk shook his head and smirked. "Good luck gettin' that one answered, mate. I've been 'ere a while now and still 'aven't 'eard the whole story. And what little I 'ave 'eard makes less sense than Carter usually does… or doesn't."

Ignoring Kinch's questions and Newkirk's comment, Carter ran toward the trees. "Come on you guys. Help me find who ever rescued me the first time tonight. I'm afraid that he might've got shot."

Newkirk and Kinch looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and then ran after Carter.

"Don't worry, Kinch. I'm sure that sometime before the sun comes up Carter will explain to our mutual satisfaction what the bloody 'ell he's talking about. Rescue the first time, rescue the second time, Nazis dropping like flies without being shot. He's gone crackers, 'e 'as. And I'm 'fraid that the longer I 'ang around 'im, the farther I'm goin' round the bend me self."

_And bloody Hell is going to have to freeze over before I let Carter out of me sight again for the rest of the night! Hell, for the rest of this bleedin' war!_

Kinch realized that the myriad of questions plaguing him would remain unanswered until Carter stopped running, but he took solace in the fact that all three of them were back together again, unharmed, and quickly moving away from the carnage towards the cover and relative safety of the trees.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Over here, guys. Hurry!"

It didn't take long for Carter to find his mysterious rescuer. A skinny teenager, all legs and arms, lay crumpled and bleeding at the base of a sturdy oak tree just inside the forest. His clothes were ill-fitting and worn, his hair was shaggy and disheveled, and his face had an unnerving pallor that emphasized his unnatural stillness. Carter kneeled next to him as Kinch and Newkirk caught up. Removing his gloves, he gingerly searched for a pulse.

"Cor blimey! Poor bugger."

There was ample light to see the gruesome scene. Blood was flowing freely around the sharp edges of bone that had ripped through skin and clothing and were now protruding at unnatural angles from his lower arm. The moonlight cast a surreal aura on the scene, contrasting the jagged white bones with the smooth, dark blood that was quickly spreading over the forest floor.

"Thank God." Carter found a pulse; and as if to accentuate the fact that he was indeed alive, a weak moan escaped from the injured stranger's cracked lips. That sparked Carter into action.

"Okay, guys. Check him over to see if he's hurt anywhere else. He's bleeding real bad so I'm going to have to put a tourniquet just below his elbow; then I'm going to try to splint up his arm without moving the bones."

Newkirk and Kinch were secretly relieved that Carter just naturally took command of the dire situation. The three friends never stood on ceremony; they always bowed to each other's strengths and were open to new ideas. Since it was obvious that Carter knew what was needed to be done, they simply followed his suggestions and set to the tasks at hand. But Kinch was feeling the weight of responsibility of command, so he suggested, "Carter, how about us moving him deeper into the trees. We're sitting ducks here, and we don't know if the only Germans around here are our five dead pals over there." Kinch nodded his head towards the gruesome scene not far from them.

"We can't move him until his arm is secured. It won't take long, Kinch. I promise. If we move him now, it'll make him bleed even more."

Moving aside so the ever-spreading pool of blood would not reach his shoes, Newkirk shook his head in disbelief. "Andrew, I don't think that's humanly possible."

Another moan interrupted the three POW's. This one was a bit more coherent and desperate than the first one. Newkirk took off his overcoat and gently wrapped the teen's torso with it, being too engrossed with trying to save the young man's life to notice the biting cold lash through his clothing.

"What's this? Looks like he's got a good grip on something 'ere." Newkirk pried open the fingers of the injured teen's left hand to reveal a slingshot.

"This explains how he killed those three Krauts without makin' a sound. Blimey, that's bloody diabolical. Genius, that is!"

"He's been shot in the upper leg." Kinch announced. "There's no exit wound."

Without being asked, Newkirk extracted his pencil sharpener and handed it to Kinch so he could cut the pant leg in order to treat the wound easier. Kinch was surprised by how thin the leg was, and by the lack of body hair that most men have.

"How old is this guy? He looks like he's twelve."

Newkirk noticed how smooth his face was. "War makes kids grow up too bloody fast, mate. I hope that America never has to go through being bombed. It destroys a lot more than just buildings…" Newkirk allowed himself a reflective moment before he returned to the present situation. "But lookin' at how long his leg is, he must be a ruddy giant if he's only twelve years old."

Carter took the knife from Kinch. He had multiple layers of sleeves to cut away in order to gain full access to the injured arm. "Wow! This guy's got 3 shirts on, a sweater and a jacket."

"He has a vest on too, and a scarf, but I 'aven't found any identification or papers or even a wallet of any kind; just an old Swiss Army knife, a few walnuts and a handful of stones in his pockets."

They were interrupted by a heart wrenching moan that quickly escalated to a scream. Cognizance had replaced oblivion, and with it, agony arrived. The young man began to struggle, writhing in pain as well as fighting against the firm grip that the three POW's now had on him. Each movement caused the protruding bones to shift and grind against each other as they tore through tissue. Carter and Kinchloe continued trying to restrain their patient as best they could, while Newkirk changed tactics and tried to make the teen understand that he had to stop moving. Newkirk leaned down so he was eye level with the injured teen. He could see the suffering and fear emanating from his large, amber colored eyes as he tried to calm the youth.

"Nicht bewegen. Wir werden dich nicht verletzen. Wir sind Freunde. Seien Sie Still."(1)

"Speak English! Your German's horrible!" The youth hissed through clenched teeth, trying with limited success to deal with the pain.

"Blimey! He's a Yank!"

As if to confound Newkirk, a string of highly descriptive expletives that would've made any sailor proud, sprang from the injured teen's lips in at least three different languages.

Carter blushed.

Kinch smiled. _At least the kid has some fight left in him. He's gonna need it to make it through this night._

Carter and Kinchloe quickly resumed administering first aid while Newkirk continued trying to talk to the teen. "Okay, no German. Suites me just fine, it does. 'ow 'bout a bit o' Cockney then?"

"Damn, this hurts! Hurts real bad! Holy Mother of God, this hurts like a son of a bitch!"

"Okay, the King's English it is."

"This is killing me! Just rip my damn arm off and knock me out with it!"

The next string of descriptive expletives was delivered in English only.

"That's right, English. Something we can all understand and appreciate."

Carter blushed again.

The teen turned his head away from Newkirk to see what was causing his suffering. A choked moan was all he was capable of as he saw his own bones protruding from his arm. Newkirk knew that he had to redirect their young patient's attention, so he put his hands on either side of the teen's face and gently turned it away from the horrific scene so that he was looking directly at Newkirk.

"What's your name?"

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! It hurts!"

"Pick one, mate."

"Huh? Oh… Finn. Finn McMahon."

"Well, from the sounds of that, you're definitely not a local lad. Nothing wrong with that, mind you. You've probably noticed from my masterful grasp of the English language, that I'm not either. Peter's me name. And me mates here are Andrew and Kinch, both fellow countrymen of yours."

"Shouldn't assume things," Finn groaned, but then hissed through clenched teeth as Kinch tied off the wound in his leg, "Christ... all mighty... that hurts! Damn! Damn! Damn!"

Suddenly Newkirk became excited. "Blimey! I've got medical supplies from the air drop in me pack. What with all the excitement, I forgot about 'em."

Newkirk searched through the contents of his pack. "'Look at all these goodies! Here ya go, sterile bandages, gauze, tape, antiseptic… Jackpot! Morphine and penicillin!"

With a voice that had suddenly become faint and shaky, Finn pleaded, "Oh God, Peter, please… please. Morphine. It hurts like Hell! I can't stand it! Please give me some morphine. Please!"

Finn's plea was heart breaking, but something about it made Kinch and Newkirk stop what they were doing and give Finn a long, hard look. Realization came to them simultaneously.

"You're a girl!"

Carter immediately stopped what he was doing and looked up. "A girl! Where?"

(1) "Don't move. We're not going to hurt you. We're your friends. Be still."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Finn could no longer keep tears from falling, and her left hand trembled as it reached up to Newkirk. He readily grasped it, trying to give her whatever comfort and support he could while Carter and Kinch continued working on her. Newkirk was shocked at how cold her hand was in his.

"Finn, I know that you're hurtin' a lot, but before I give you a shot of morphine, we need to know if you're injured anywhere else but your right arm and leg."

"What? Isn't that enough?" Finn gasped. It was taking all of Finn's concentration to keep from moving, and she had to fight the desperate urge to scream with each breath she took.

"Alright, luv. I'll give you a shot. You'll 'ave to leave go of me hand though. I'm not that good of a magician to do this one handed."

But before Finn could relinquish Newkirk's hand, searing pain erupted from Finn's broken arm. A choked scream wrenched from her lips as she squeezed Newkirk's hand with all her might. Kinch had just placed both of his hands under Finn's shattered arm and lifted it as gently and evenly as he could so that Carter could finish tightly bandaging it. Kinch barely controlled his stomach when he felt bones grind together as Carter finished tightening the wrappings around Finn's arm.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Kinch quietly pleaded forgiveness as he continued to firmly hold Finn's arm until Carter was done.

Newkirk looked directly into Finn's eyes as he tried to comfort her. "Almost done, luv. Just hold on to ol' Newkirk 'ere. Me mate Andrew's almost through. Hold on for just a wee bit longer."

Newkirk spoke words of encouragement to Finn as her eyes begged him for help and her grip on his hand became surprisingly painful.

Carter knew that applying pressure around the broken bones was hurting Finn, but that was the only way he could slow down the bleeding. A tear ran down Carter's face unchecked as he gently positioned Finn's arm in the improvised sling he designed from parachute fabric that Newkirk gave him. Carter secured it not only around her neck but also around her waist. He figured that way her arm was secured as well as supported by her entire torso instead of just her neck. Neither Newkirk nor Kinch had seen a sling like that before, and they were very impressed with their friend's medical skills and ingenuity.

Relieved that he was finally done, Carter leaned back and sighed as he gave his knuckles a crack; the first indication he displayed of just how nervous he really was. He knew that his actions were necessary to save Finn's life, but poor Carter never could handle causing someone else pain, especially when he felt responsible for Finn's injuries to begin with.

_If Finn hadn't rescued me in the first place, those other Nazi's wouldn't have discovered her hiding place, so she never would've gotten shot, so she never would've fallen out of that tree, so she never would've broken her arm. If it hadn't been for me, none of this would've happened. And to make matters worse, she's a GIRL! _

Slowly Finn's grip loosened as the pain leveled out somewhat, so Newkirk gently freed his hand.

"Thanks, luv. I need this now that you're done using it."

Newkirk gave his newly freed hand a shake to help its circulation. Between being caught in Finn's desperate grip and the numbing effects of the biting cold, his fingers were not responding like the nimble digits he was used to controlling. He'd seen medics administer morphine to patients before, but Newkirk had never actually done it himself. He quickly read the instructions, but when he tried to follow them, his hands were shaking so hard that he was barely able to administer the shot. Without his overcoat to protect him from the frigid temperature, Newkirk had begun to shiver. To divert his friends' concern, Newkirk lied.

"Blimey. Guess I'm a bit more nervous 'round needles than I realized. Sorry 'bout that, luv. But not to worry. You'll be feeling right as rain in just a tick."

"Promise?" Her voice, now barely louder than a whisper, trembled from exhaustion.

He tried to put on as confident and cheerful a face as he could before he answered, "I promise. Faster than you can say "Bob's yer uncle."

He gave Finn a wink and grin before he turned away to quickly stow the medical supplies into his pack. Only then did he allow the fear and stress he'd been controlling to show on his face.

Finally, not preoccupied with first aid, Carter couldn't hold back the words he'd been dying to say from the moment he found Finn. Suddenly his mouth was bone dry, but his eyes were moist.

"Finn, I... I can't thank you enough for saving me from those Germans. I'll never be able to repay you for what you did, and I feel just awful that you're hurt. It's all my fault. Well, actually the Nazis started it, but that doesn't really matter now. You saved me and got hurt because of it. And just saying thank you isn't enough, but right now we have to get you somewhere safe and taken care of. How do we get to your house from here? I bet your folks are worried sick about you. I've just met you and I'm already worried sick about you."

Barely able to speak, Finn replied weakly, "Don't have any parents. Don't have a place to live."

"Gee, I'm…I'm real sorry," was all Carter could think to say.

Until that moment Carter didn't think it was possible to feel any worse for Finn than he already did. Even though the young sergeant had personally seen the terrible price that war exacts, he still had difficulty dealing with it; especially when kids were concerned. He didn't know how old Finn was, but it was obvious to even him that Finn was younger than he was. Carter had led such a sheltered, happy childhood that it was impossible for him to relate to Finn's situation; but that did not keep him from being affected by her plight.

Finn moaned again as a shiver ran through her. The three men exchanged worried glances.

"We better get going. More Germans could arrive anytime." What Kinch didn't say aloud was, _"Finn is going into shock as we speak, and we still have a long way back to camp."_

Kinch leaned down close to Finn. "Finn, I'm going to be as careful as I can, but you're going to have to help me. Put your left arm around my neck so I can pick you up. Okay?"

Finn continued to shiver, but nodded her head. Even with Carter and Newkirk's assistance, it was impossible to lift Finn without causing her pain. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but she couldn't stop more tears from falling. By the time she was settled securely in Kinch's strong arms, everybody was breathing hard.

"Oh God. It still hurts." She moaned as she laid her head on Kinch's shoulder. "Why does it still hurt?"

More worried glances were exchanged while Newkirk carefully tucked his coat around Finn's shivering body. Newkirk silently doubted his effectiveness at administering the morphine. That, as well as blood loss, explained why Finn was still in pain and why she was now shivering.

"Finn, the morphine will kick in real soon. You just try to relax and we'll get you back to Sta…"

"Home!" Kinch interrupted the concerned corporal. "As soon as we get you to our home, you'll be taken care of properly."

Newkirk silently mouthed a thank you to Kinch for stepping in and keeping him from completely blowing their cover. He had already made a huge tactical error by telling a stranger their real names. Normally when Newkirk was on a mission, he was very wary, and being circumspect of strangers was simply part of his nature; so Newkirk could not figure out why he dropped his guard completely around Finn. It certainly wasn't simply because she was a girl. He had told her their names even before he knew that she was a girl. And anyway, it was obvious to Newkirk that Finn was too young to be interested in her "that way." Newkirk was well aware that his interest in the fairer sex had clouded his judgment in the past, and he was certain that it would again many more times before he took his final breath. But that wasn't it. Looking at Finn's big eyes, Newkirk finally realized that he didn't look at Finn as a member of the fairer sex as much as a vulnerable teenager, not unlike his little sister. He couldn't imagine what horrible events drove Finn to her current circumstances, but he hoped that if, God forbid, Mavis was ever in such dire straits, that she would encounter only well-meaning people who would do everything in their power to try to help her and only have her best interests in mind.

"Home… that sounds nice… I'm so tired…" Finn nuzzled her face into the crook of Kinch's neck.

"Mmmmm, you're warm…" Finn shivered in Kinch's strong arms.

Carter took point, trying his best to quickly clear the way for Kinch while selecting the most direct route back to camp. Newkirk took up his usual position in the rear to watch their backs, but he couldn't have taken point even if he wanted to. His body was slowly shutting down from the effects of hypothermia. For Newkirk, just picking up his feet and placing one in front of the other was becoming more difficult with each step, and he was stumbling even more than Carter usually did. As he lagged behind, Newkirk's thoughts began to wander.

_I'll eventually feel warm again. Probably not until after this ruddy war is over… Keep walking… Carter better not get us lost. If 'e does, I'll kill 'im with me own 'ands… that is if I could feel 'em… Keep walking… Blimey it's cold. I really hate Germany. It's cold, far from home, hostile, not to mention full of Krauts…Keep walking…and its cold...Did I mention that it's really bleedin' cold?_

Finn closed her eyes as she finally felt the narcotic course through her body, sweeping her to a tranquil state of apathy. There was still pain, but now it was tolerable and somehow distant. All Finn wanted to do was sleep, but her current situation did not allow it. Even though Kinch was careful, occasionally he would stumble and jar his fragile cargo, or her wounded leg would accidently bump into something causing her to cry out; sometimes in English and other times in German. Reality was becoming elusive. She had no energy to do anything more than open her eyes occasionally and watch the moon follow their arduous progress through the trees. Eventually Finn became so exhausted that simply inhaling became a difficult chore, but she was too fatigued to care.

Carrying Finn was becoming more difficult with each step Kinch took. His shoulders were beginning to ache, and his hold on Finn was slipping as blood continued to seep between Finn's long body and his. He was relieved that Finn had finally relaxed in his arms, but it also concerned him. She was so still; too still.

_Stop thinking that way! She'll be okay once we get her back to camp. It's just the morphine kicking in. I should worry about what I'm going to tell Colonel Hogan… how badly we managed to screw up this mission… my very first mission being in charge! Not only did we leave most of the supplies behind, we also left 5 dead Germans behind in plain sight! However, we did manage to bring back a total stranger in critical need of medical attention who just happens to be a girl. A girl who knows our names! The Colonel isn't going to let me out of camp again until we all walk out the front gate together when the damn war is over. And maybe not even then..._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hogan was pacing in the radio room when LeBeau brought him a cup of coffee. "Where are they? This was supposed to be a simple retrieval mission. They should've been back an hour ago! I knew I should've gone with them."

LeBeau understood that Colonel Hogan's brash tone was not really directed at him. It was Hogan's way of venting his frustration at not knowing what was going on with his men; if they were alright, or if they needed help. Hogan was on edge; his mind running through dozens of possible scenarios of what could go wrong and what he would need to do in order to rescue his men.

LeBeau set the coffee cup on the table. "I'm sure that they're fine, mon Colonel. You would not have allowed Kinch to command the mission if you did not think he was capable. I trust him with my life, as do Carter and Newkirk. The wind is very strong tonight. London says that a blizzard is coming. Maybe the parachute was blown off course. After all, the full moon made the drop off plane have to fly much higher than usual so it wouldn't be easily spotted."

Hogan stopped pacing and sighed. Picking up the steaming cup, he nodded thanks to LeBeau before sipping the bitter, watery brew that masqueraded as coffee. He made a face and put the cup down.

"That stuff should be against the Geneva Convention."

LeBeau did not take that comment personally either. Hogan was right. The ersatz "coffee" LeBeau had to brew after the real coffee sent in their Red Cross packages was used up, was atrocious. At least it did keep people awake; whether because of the caffeine or indigestion, LeBeau did not know. Real coffee was just one of the things he was hoping would be in the drop tonight.

"Colonel, are you sure you don't want me to go out and try to find them? I would be very careful, and I am small so I can hide very easily. The Bosch would never find me." LeBeau rubbed his hands together enthusiastically, his eager face looking up at Hogan.

"Thanks, LeBeau, but no way. I'm not sending anybody else out there until I get confirmation that the double agent who infiltrated the Underground has been captured. All they know for sure is that she's working in this area, and is linked to the murders of three Underground agents this week. Unfortunately, those three were the only people who could identify her."

"Oui, mon Colonel. But I have been warned about her already. Kinch, Carter and Newkirk left before London radioed to warn us. They could be walking into a trap. You know how Newkirk is when there's a woman around. He'd be trying to make a date with her as she's aiming her gun at his head. But being a Frenchman, I can understand my poor Pierre. After all, it has been a very long time for him without a woman."

The sound of somebody climbing down the escape tunnel ladder interrupted LeBeau. He followed Hogan as they hurried down the tunnel to meet their returning friends. Hogan stopped short when he saw Carter running towards them; the expression on his young face was all Hogan had to see to know that something was terribly wrong. The dried blood on Carter's hands and clothes simply confirmed it. Hogan quickly grabbed LeBeau and pushed him back towards the radio room.

"Quick! Get Wilson!"

Without hesitation, LeBeau took off running to retrieve the medic.

"Carter! What happened? Where are Kinch and Newkirk?"

"Boy, am I glad you're here, Colonel! Thanks for sending LeBeau to get Wilson. We really need him!"

Hogan couldn't stop his gasp when he heard that. He understood that in war, people get injured, or worse, die. However, in the short time he had been living and working with these men, he had begun to think of them as true friends. This was his worst nightmare coming to life.

_What happened to Kinch and Newkirk?_

Carter continued. "But right now, we need help getting Finn down the ladder. Newkirk isn't moving too well, so he can't help. He'll be okay where he is until after we get Finn inside. I can get him down by myself after that. But Finn needs our help right now!"

_Finn? Who the Hell is Finn? And why isn't Newkirk moving too well?_

Carter turned away from Hogan and ran back to the escape ladder. That was when Hogan saw the blood splattered on the back of Carter's jacket.

"Carter! What happened out there?"

Carter answered his C.O.'s question from the foot of the ladder. "Well, I got captured, but then Finn rescued me…but then I sorta got captured again…well actually just shot at that time, sorta… but then Newkirk rescued me, but that was after Finn got hurt…"

Carter was interrupted by a strong whisper from above. "Carter! Where are you? Finn can't wait a second longer! I'm coming down now! Help me. If I drop Finn it would kill her for sure. Hell, I'm not even sure that she's still alive!"

Hogan still had many more questions than answers when he joined Carter at the ladder to give Kinch a hand. Even with help from Hogan and Carter, it was very difficult for Kinch to descend the ladder one handed while holding onto Finn with the other; but he was determined not to even jostle her as he carried her down.

The moment his feet touched the earthen floor he ran to the radio room with Hogan and Carter following him. Kinch gently placed Finn on the cot that was there. Hogan was alarmed at how pale she was, and noticed that she had not moved at all. But Hogan became very concerned when he got a look at Kinch. His second in command, his strong and level-headed, right hand man was visibly shaken, and just like Carter, there was blood all over him.

"Colonel, I'm afraid we're losing Finn. I don't think she's breathing. God damn it! Where's Wilson?" Kinch quickly covered Finn with blankets as Carter felt for her pulse.

"Well? Carter…?" Kinch could not bear to wait. He had only met Finn a short while ago, but there was something about the mysterious teen that tugged at Kinch's heart which made him very protective of her. She wasn't going to die if he had anything to do with it. But looking down at her laying so still, her face alarmingly pale while her lips were tinged blue, he was truly scared for her.

This was the second time tonight that Carter had felt for Finn's pulse. The first time it was easy to find, but so far Carter could not feel anything. A tear ran down his cheek when suddenly a strong hand squeezed his shoulder.

"Thanks, Carter." Wilson said. "I'll take it from here. Why don't you go wash up? We're not going anywhere for a while. Come back down when you're done. Same with you, Kinch."

Carter stood up next to Kinch to give Wilson room to work, but the two men didn't move. They needed to know that Finn was still alive, and they weren't going anywhere until they heard. Wilson placed his fingers on Finn's neck as Carter had done, and just like Carter, it took a while before he actually felt a very weak pulse.

"Ah ha! Found it!"

It was obvious to Wilson that his patient was in critical condition.

"Kinch, I need more help. Run to barracks 7 and get Hewitson. He was in his second year of med school when he enlisted. I know he's not a doctor, but I'm going to need as much help as I can get. I don't care that you have to drag him out of bed. I need him, and I need him now!" Wilson's tone left no question as to the severity of the situation. Even though Kinch was exhausted, he almost flew up the ladder.

Hogan had known better than to even try to remove Kinch and Carter from Finn's bedside before they knew, but Wilson had just confirmed that Finn was alive. Kinch had run to get help, leaving Carter hovering next to Finn, not knowing what he should do now. Even though he knew he needed to, Carter really didn't want to leave to get cleaned up. Hogan had to usher him to the barracks ladder, turning Carter to get a good look at his youngest crew team member. Hogan had never seen Carter look so overwhelmed and lost.

"Change out of your clothes and wash yourself as best you can using the sink in the barracks. The goons will catch you if you use the showers, and right now I can't think up a lie that Klink will believe to explain things. You can come back down when you're finished cleaning up. It's Wilson's turn now to take care of... of... Finn? Don't worry. She's still in great hands."

Carter didn't move.

"Carter, what's wrong? Does Wilson need to take a look at you too?"

"Uh, no, Colonel. But can I go help Newkirk make it down the ladder before I wash? I'm afraid that we had to leave him outside not far from the escape tunnel. You see, he gave Finn his coat to wear when we found her, so now he's almost frozen through to the bone. He refused to take my coat when I offered it, but I bet he wouldn't refuse some help getting inside."

Hogan directed Carter towards the ladder. "Don't worry about Newkirk. I'll go get him right now. You go get cleaned up. I'll make that an order if I have to."

"No, sir… er… yes, sir… um... I give up… sir." Carter quickly climbed the ladder as Hogan ran to the emergency tunnel exit to retrieve his last man.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Mean while, outside...

_Ah, good. Carter found the 'scape tunnel… I think. 'e looks like the ruddy March Hare, disappearing down a hole… I'm so bloody tired… but not much farther to go. Why isn't Kinch going down the rabbit hole… 'cause Kinch isn't a rabbit. He's a knight in shining armor 'olding a damsel in distress, he is. Fancy that! Wait… When was Kinch knighted? What? That's not right, is it?_

Newkirk shook his head trying to clear his thoughts, causing him to lose his balance and fall heavily onto his hands and knees on the frozen forest floor not far from the escape tunnel. His chapped, raw hands were now in agony, but Newkirk couldn't figure out why. Confusion, exhaustion, and loss of coordination were all symptoms of hypothermia. The long trek back to camp without a coat had taken its toll on the thin Englishman.

Earlier that night, he had finally snapped at Carter the third time Carter tried to get him to wear his coat. "Andrew, stop shoving your bleedin' coat at me and get back out front where you belong! I'm fine; just bringing up the rear and watchin' our backs. Your job is to get us back to camp as fast as possible and NOT to get us lost. You can't do that if you keep coming back 'ere, now can you? If I see your face one more time, I'll… I'll hurt you! Understand?"

Newkirk hoped he sounded forceful enough to hide the sound of his chattering teeth. He hated the kicked, puppy-dog look Carter gave him, but at least Carter didn't leave his position in front of the rag-tag rescue group after that. Shortly thereafter, Newkirk began shivering so hard that he actually regretted not accepting Carter's coat. By that time though, Carter and Kinch were well ahead of him, so Newkirk just wrapped his arms tighter around himself and slowly walked on.

Now Newkirk was so exhausted that he actually considered simply laying down on the frozen ground where he fell. He knew he was close to the security of the tunnel, but he just couldn't figure out how to get back on his feet to actually make it there.

_Kinch is still in sight… that's a good thing, right? No… 'e needs to go down the rabbit hole straight away…I need to go down there too… just can't remember how or why… _

In the back of his head, Newkirk could hear Col. Hogan. "Newkirk! You can't stop. Move! You're so close. I know you can do it. I have faith in you."

Col. Hogan was the first person to believe in Newkirk in a very long time. He was the only officer that Newkirk ever respected, but that wasn't as important to Newkirk as the fact that Hogan was a good man who always put the welfare of his men first. So, if Col. Hogan wanted him to move, then he was going to move, even if it seemed a physical impossibility to do so. Newkirk very slowly, painfully, began crawling towards the tree stump that held the escape tunnel. _I can't stay out here…have to keep moving…somehow._

The next thing Newkirk was aware of was his head bumping into something hard. Kinch was nowhere in sight and all that Newkirk could hear was the wind howling through the trees. Simply keeping his eyes open was too exhausting. With his last conscious effort, Newkirk curled up in as tight a ball as he could, attempting to preserve what little warmth his body had remaining. He had no idea that he had actually reached the escape tunnel. Maybe fate was kind; to be only inches away from life-saving warmth and safety, yet not able to reach it, would truly be a cruel last realization.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Carter washed off the blood and changed his clothing as quickly as possible, so he returned to the Radio Room in record time, just after Kinch arrived with Hewitson.

"Whoever patched up our friend here did a Cracker Jack job!" Wilson said to no one particular.

Carter smiled but didn't say anything as Kinch patted him on the back, so Kinch replied. "Carter was the one in charge. He told us how to help while he took care of Finn's arm."

Without looking away from his patient, Wilson added, "Great job with the bandaging, the tourniquet and the sling."

Knowing that Carter felt responsible for Finn getting hurt, Kinch gently squeezed his young friend's shoulder and gave him a reassuring nod.

Wilson was relieved that Kinch and Carter did not see the horrified expression he and Hewitson exchanged earlier when the final bandaging had been removed from around Finn's arm. Her fracture was much more complicated than they were prepared for, and the damage was too extensive for them to properly address. But he remained completely professional and did not mention to them how desperate Finn's condition was. It was obvious to Wilson that they already knew.

"Okay, guys. Fill me in, and don't leave anything out." Wilson listened to Kinch and Carter retell the night's events as he and Hewitson worked on Finn.

LeBeau returned with a bowl of water and as many clean towels as he could find. He tapped Kinch's shoulder. "Ici, mon ami."

He quickly handed everything to Kinch, making certain not to look at Finn. LeBeau was very concerned for his friends as well as their injured companion, but after hearing just a little of their harrowing tale, he became queasy without even seeing any blood. Though he was very worried that Newkirk had not returned yet, LeBeau did not want to pass out, so he positioned himself toward the rear of the room, secretly hoping to be helpful somewhere a little farther from the emergency taking place in the Radio Room.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Hogan was met by a blast of artic wind as he opened the escape tunnel hatch. He found Newkirk huddled on the frozen ground behind the escape tunnel tree stump, hidden from the search lights. His knees were pulled up tightly to his chest, with his head resting on them, his hands tucked between his legs, and his eyes closed. His respiration was extremely slow but easy to see because each breath appeared as a delicate puff of steam illuminated by the bright moon. Hogan knelt down next to Newkirk and gently shook his shoulder.

"Come on, Newkirk. Let's get out of the cold." Hogan whispered as he ducked from the search light. He felt the corporal shiver, but there was no other response.

Hogan shook Newkirk a little harder, eliciting a muffled groan, "Leave off," but unfortunately no other movement.

"Come on, Corporal! You've got to get up. You're starting to worry me." Another moan was Newkirk's only response.

Hogan decided to try a different tactic. Shaking Newkirk's shoulders harder and longer, Hogan leaned close to his ear. "Newkirk! Carter and Kinch need you. Finn needs you."

Newkirk slowly raised his head and opened his eyes a crack. "F…F…Finn?" Newkirk's teeth chattered as his entire body violently shivered.

"That's right, Newkirk. Come on."

With that, Hogan gently pulled a very disoriented, exhausted, English corporal to his feet. Keeping a supportive hand on Newkirk the entire time, Hogan quickly opened the escape hatch and positioned Newkirk in front of it. Newkirk's movements were very hesitant and uncoordinated.

"Colonel?" Newkirk was becoming more aware of his surroundings, but his motor skills still left something to be desired. "I saw C…Carter go d…down the rabbit 'ole."

Deciding to just go with Newkirk's train of thought, Hogan said, "That's right. He did, and Kinch did too. Now it's your turn. Come on. I'll help you."

"We m…m…made it?"

"As soon as I get you inside, everybody made it plus one extra."

"In...s…s…side would be lovely. B…b…bit of a n…n…nip in the air t…tonight, Guv'nor."

Hearing Newkirk's description of the frigid weather, Hogan could only shake his head and smile. Now that all of his men were back, Hogan allowed himself the luxury of relief. He quickly went down the ladder first, stopping after a few steps so he could help Newkirk get his footing secure on each ladder rung and basically keep him from falling flat on his back. Hogan somehow got them both down the ladder without either one of them falling; but it was neither pretty nor fast.

"B…b…blimey! I p…prefer being frozen t…to this thawing. I'm startin' to feel everything now and it b…b…bloody hurts!" Newkirk's teeth chattered as he wrapped his arms around his chest and shoved his hands deep into his armpits. He bent forward and shivered as he very slowly began walking toward the radio room.

"Hold on a minute, Newkirk. I'll be right back." Hogan ran down the tunnel to where the uniforms were kept and grabbed two large, wool overcoats. Newkirk had only taken a few awkward steps by the time Hogan returned.

"Here. Give me your arms."

Without bothering to remove the backpack that Newkirk was wearing, Hogan quickly dressed him in the first overcoat as he would dress a young child getting ready to play in the snow; pulling his arms through the bulky sleeves, buttoning all the buttons and turning up the collar. Then he draped the second coat over Newkirk's shivering shoulders.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

When Hogan and Newkirk entered the crowded radio room, LeBeau's concerns immediately focused on Newkirk as he ran to his side. "Pierre! Mon ami pauvre. Are you alright? Where were you? You look awful. What happened? Let me help you."

Newkirk looked at LeBeau and tried to answer his friend, but the questions were too quick and numerous for his brain to deal with. "Louis… What?" His attention turned to the figure lying motionless on the cot until LeBeau gently put his hand on Newkirk's arm, making the Englishman look back to him.

Newkirk concentrated for a moment, yawned, and then leaned heavily on Hogan. "Um… Finn happened… No, um… 'old on… Finn's hurt. Carter's not dead. It's bloody freezin'… I'm knackered, mate."

After hearing Newkirk's response, LeBeau was more concerned than before. He looked to Hogan for a translation, but Hogan just shrugged his shoulders and motioned with his head to the nearest chair. LeBeau understood and quickly retrieved it, positioning it close enough for Newkirk to be able to see everything, but not be in the way. Hogan helped Newkirk sit before turning to the worried Frenchman.

"LeBeau, Newkirk sure could use something hot to drink to help warm him up, and from the looks of things, we're all going to need some coffee. Could you brew up another pot right away?"

"Avec plaisir, mon Colonel." He ran to the barracks ladder, very happy that he could do something more to help that would not position him anywhere near blood.

Hogan stood behind Newkirk and started rubbing his back, shoulders and arms, trying to stimulate his thin corporal's circulation to warm him. At first Newkirk just sat still, starring at what was happening on the cot. He was yawning constantly, but finally his shivering slowed down.

"Gov'nor, give us a hand." Newkirk tried to stand up, but Hogan simply pushed down very gently on his shoulders to keep Newkirk seated.

"Newkirk, behave yourself."

"But Colonel…"

"No buts. You're in no condition to be walking around."

"But…"

"Uh uh. I'll make you sit in the corner if you're not good."

Newkirk was becoming more agitated as Hogan continued to restrict his movements.

"Colonel…"

"Newkirk, calm down. Don't make me make that an order."

As if Newkirk had used up what little energy he had left, he slumped back into his chair, breathing hard. He glared at Hogan as he spoke as clearly and loudly as he could, "Wilson… I 'ave supplies. Supplies that could be useful… in me pack."

Hogan immediately took his hand off of Newkirk. "Oh! Sorry. Why didn't you say something?"

Shaking his head, Newkirk replied, "Ruddy officers."

Hogan decided to allow his corporal the slight insubordination due to his weakened condition, and since his own actions were unintentionally counterproductive, he secretly agreed with Newkirk.

"That's right, Wilson. I forgot. Tonight's air drop had a lot of medical supplies in it!" Kinch explained as he helped Hogan get Newkirk up and remain standing while taking off the heavy coats to get to the pack. Kinch quickly handed it over to Wilson, then helped Hogan wrap Newkirk up again and settle him back on the chair just as LeBeau returned to the Radio Room.

"Mon pote! I made you a nice cup of tea. Ici. It will help to warm you." LeBeau gently placed a steaming mug into Newkirk's hands, making sure that he had a secure hold in it before letting go.

"Thanks, mate."

"There is also a fresh pot of hot coffee on the desk for anybody. We have sugar, but no milk." LeBeau announced to the room

Hogan asked, "Wilson, is it okay if I borrow Kinch for about five minutes?" Wilson simply nodded yes as he and Hewitson continued working on Finn.

"LeBeau, stay here with Newkirk for a minute. Make sure he behaves. Kinch, my quarters."

Hogan knew that Kinch would do what he said without questioning him, so Hogan simply left to go up to his room, certain that his second in command would follow him. He needed to debrief each of his men about tonight's mission, and he wanted to do it while it was still fresh in their memory. And Hogan could not wait another minute to hear exactly what had happened tonight. At the moment Kinch was the best candidate; Newkirk was obviously not capable, and Carter was too preoccupied with Finn to concentrate on anything else.

Kinch knocked on Hogan's door less than a minute after Hogan got there himself.

"Come in, Kinch. Hopefully this won't take long at all, and when we're done you can go back and send Carter up. Tell me what the Hell happened out there tonight, and make sure not to leave anything out."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Carter couldn't help himself as he glanced at the door yet again while Col. Hogan was going over his mission report. Since five German soldiers had been killed, Hogan was making certain that absolutely nothing was over looked. He didn't want any surprises if he or any of his men were hauled in by the Gestapo to be interrogated. After all, the bombed-out munitions factory where this all took place was not very far from Stalag 13.

But Hogan didn't have the heart to delay Carter any longer. His anxious glances at the door and his constant fidgeting made it all too plain that Carter wanted to leave Hogan's quarters before the debriefing even began. And his version of what happened on the mission checked out with Kinch's. However, he was able to give Hogan more details about how the three Germans who, in Carter's words, "captured him the first time" died, even though he was only able to hear what was happening behind his back. Hogan couldn't begin to imagine how terrifying it was for his young sergeant to have gone through that alone, but to his credit, Carter seemed to have handled it surprisingly well. Maybe Carter focusing his thoughts on Finn helped Carter to simply accept what happened to him tonight and move on.

Hogan had discovered early on that Carter only appeared to be fuddled and immature. Even though he was young, he was proving to be a true asset to the team. But apparently everybody was going to have to wait to hear Finn's version to get the complete picture of all that happened. Unfortunately, there was no guarantee that anybody was ever going to hear her side of the tale. Things did not look very promising for Finn, but Hogan wanted to remain optimistic for his men's sake, especially Carter's. But at the moment, it was very apparent to Hogan that the only place that Carter wanted to be was back in the radio room watching over Finn.

"Carter, promise me that you won't blame yourself any longer for what happened tonight. You didn't ask for this to happen, and you didn't do anything to have caused it."

Even though Carter nodded his head in agreement, Hogan saw in his eyes that he did not really believe what Hogan had said. Hogan let out a tired sigh. "Carter, I'd prefer it if you would try to get some sleep before morning roll call, but I won't order you to do that. You're free to go."

"Thanks, Colonel. I'll be in the radio room if you need me." Carter was out of Hogan's room before he finished his sentence.

Hogan called after Carter, "Send Newkirk up to my quarters, but only if he's awake!"

Considering all that his English corporal had been through tonight, Hogan figured that it wasn't necessary to hear his mission report immediately if Newkirk had already fallen asleep. Hogan could wait until after morning roll call.

Left alone, Hogan began to pace. He now had a good idea of what happened tonight, but he still had no clue as to what Finn's story was, and what the consequences of finding Finn would be. "Who is she and what was she doing in the forest in the middle of the night? I mean, who does that sort of thing?"

Hogan shook his head when he realized that the answer to his last question was that _they_ did that sort of thing. But until all of his questions were answered to his satisfaction, he would not be able to trust Finn, and his men would have to treat her with prudence. Unfortunately, the situation was already becoming complicated. Kinch, Carter and Newkirk's judgement had been clouded because of what they experienced tonight with Finn. On the surface, Finn appears to be an innocent victim; a war orphan with nothing but the clothes on her back. No better situation to cause strangers to let their guard down. Hogan knew that his men would rally to her side if Hogan voiced his suspicions about Finn possibly being a lethal double agent. Hogan was really hoping that he was wrong to doubt their feelings, but until she answered all of his questions, he would not trust her; not when it came to the lives of his men.

Earlier tonight, London's warning to Hogan left no doubt that the double agent was to be captured ASAP and sent to London immediately for interrogation. They needed to discover how she infiltrated the Underground, who she reported to and who passed classified information onto her. She had to have gotten the information directly from London on the three Underground agents that she murdered, so the sooner she was captured, the fewer good agents, good people, would be killed.

The fact that Finn spoke multiple languages, carried no identification, and did not explain what she was doing in the middle of the night close to the drop zone, made all of Hogan's instincts warn him that she was the spy. She could've have received a radio message from her contact that Hogan was going to send some of his men to an isolated area at night. A very convenient setup for an ambush.

Hogan continued to pace. Unfortunately, it was not helping him to come up with any plausible scenarios that explained how and why Finn ended up down in the radio room. He was still pacing when he heard a quiet knock and voice coming from the other side of his door.

"Colonel? You wanted to see me?"

Hogan quickly opened the door and ushered Newkirk into his quarters. One look and it was obvious to Hogan that even though Newkirk was moving better, he wasn't necessarily feeling better. Hogan motioned for Newkirk to sit on his lower bunk. The English corporal had left the two overcoats down in the tunnels, so as soon as he sat on Hogan's lower bunk, he wrapped his arms tightly around himself and leaned forward in a desperate attempt to capture what little heat his body was producing. Hogan reached down to pull a blanket around Newkirk's shivering shoulders, but stopped when Newkirk said, "Thanks, Gov'nor, but no thanks. If I get too warm and comfy, I'll fall dead asleep right 'ere in your bed." The huge yawn that Newkirk failed to suppress made Hogan believe that Newkirk was probably right, so he put the blanket back.

"Okay, Newkirk. I'll keep this brief. I'll read what Kinch and Carter told me. If you have anything to add, or disagree with, tell me."

Hogan hadn't finished reading Kinch's statement before he heard a muffled snore. Looking up from the paper he was reading, Hogan discovered that Newkirk had fallen asleep sitting up on his bunk.

"I'm glad to see that somebody around here is going to get a little shut eye before morning roll call." Hogan spoke quietly as he gently lay Newkirk's head down on the bunk and then lifted his feet up. He covered Newkirk with the blanket the stubborn Englishman recently declined, and then reached for the blanket on the top bunk. After he covered Newkirk with the second blanket, Hogan resumed pacing.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Wilson finished washing blood from his hands at the sink in the common room of barrack 2 as quietly as he could. While drying them he saw a care-worn face sprouting a day's worth of whiskers and a few more wrinkles than he cared to claim, staring back at him from the broken mirror on the wall. He sighed. _God, when did I get so old? Many more nights like this one, and I'm going to look older than my father before this damn war is over. _

At times like these he hated the fact that he was not a doctor. On numerous occasions Wilson had referred to himself as "only a medic" when explaining to Hogan why he wasn't able to fix certain injuries to the extent he wanted to, or cure certain illnesses, or why a patient had to go through unnecessary suffering due to lack of adequate supplies.

_What I wouldn't have given tonight for an x-ray machine. Thank God for_ Hewitson!_ Without his help I'm certain Finn would have died. Even with Hewitson, I don't know why she didn't. _

It was so utterly frustrating to Wilson that the men of Stalag 13 relied on him to help them when they were at their most vulnerable. He was not equipped nor trained to assist them as thoroughly as they needed and deserved.

_Medics are only supposed to patch up the casualties; to keep them alive until they got to the doctors. Damn this war!_

Hogan had tried to explain to Wilson he was crucial for the wellbeing of every prisoner in the camp; that Hogan and the men understood the restraints that he was working under, and how much they needed him and appreciated all that he did for them, but Wilson still felt inadequate. Standing outside of Hogan's room, he took a moment to gather his thoughts before he gently knocked once and then opened the door without waiting for a response. No surprise to Wilson, he found Hogan pacing; and Hogan was not surprised by Wilson's lack of proper military conduct. When it came to medical matters, Wilson was the only prisoner in camp who could actually give Hogan an order, so waiting permission to enter Hogan's quarters never entered Wilson's fatigued mind.

Hogan stopped pacing and looked at his medic. He had never seen Wilson look so tired. Hogan pulled out his desk chair and offered it to Wilson. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm afraid that if I sit down I won't be able to get up till Christmas. Damn, this war is making me old before my time."

Hogan put his finger up to his lips and looked down at the sleeping corporal in his bunk so that Wilson would lower his voice, then Hogan smiled and nodded his head in agreement. "You're preaching to the choir, Joe. Every day I notice more gray hairs in the mirror, but sure don't feel more distinguished."

Wilson sighed. "There's nothing distinguished about this war."

Both men thought on that for a moment until Wilson interrupted the silence. "Actually your three men distinguished themselves tonight. They saved a young woman's life who by all rights should be dead. I don't know why she didn't die on the way back to camp; carrying her through the woods didn't help the situation, but they had no other choice. She lost so much blood that I couldn't get a blood pressure on her at first, but considering her injuries, they did absolutely everything that they could've done to keep her from bleeding to death. That one there, pointing to Newkirk as he slept, actually put himself in physical danger, _crazy Englishman_, another came up with some ingenious solutions to a very desperate situation, and the third went above and beyond physical endurance by carrying Finn carefully in his arms over rough, difficult terrain instead of slinging her over his shoulders. It would have been much easier for Kinch to carry her that way, but I'm certain that it would've caused her to bleed more."

Even though Hogan and his core group had been together a very short time, he had quickly grown to be very proud of his men. He trusted them to do their best whenever they were on a mission, but it never hurt to hear their praise from somebody else. "I'll make sure to tell them that, Joe. It means a lot to me, and I'm sure it will mean a lot to them too."

"I already told them, but it couldn't hurt to hear it from you also."

Joe closed his eyes and rubbed his temples for a moment before he continued. "I'm still amazed that I'm actually having this discussion with you because I can't explain why Finn's not dead. The easiest, and probably the only correct explanation is that it's a miracle, plain and simple. Unfortunately, just because she's made it this far is in no way a guarantee that she's going to pull through this. The bullet hit her femur dead center, almost made it all the way through. I had a devil of a time digging it out, and it left a huge hole in the bone. At least I was able to start her on a regiment of penicillin immediately. Even so, I can't tell if I got all of the debris out of her leg or, for that matter, her arm. Penicillin gives her a fighting chance, but it can only do so much." Wilson let out a tired sigh.

Hogan appreciated Joe explaining everything, but he couldn't help but think_, Joe, I need to hear that Finn's going to make it. I have three men who will be devastated if she dies. I have to know if Finn is living on borrowed time; if I need to prepare them for the worst. _

Wilson rubbed his eyes before he continued. "Her lower right arm is shattered; major muscles and blood vessels had been severed. They did a miraculous job keeping the bones from moving and causing more bleeding. Unfortunately I wasn't able to align all of the pieces of bone correctly. Hell, I'm not sure if I even had all of the pieces of bone to work with. But the most important thing is that I've managed to stop the hemorrhaging… I think… I hope… But she needs major orthopedic surgery just to keep the bones in place, and even with that I doubt that she'll ever regain full use of her right hand. But what should that matter? She has a snowball's chance in Hell of surviving the next 24 hours. She's way too thin; her muscles are toned but she hasn't an ounce of fat, no reserves to fall back on. She needs blood, and round the clock care, and she cannot be moved even if we could get her to a hospital. If those bones move just a fraction, she'll start bleeding again… which in itself would be a miracle since I don't understand how she has any more blood left in her."

Hogan put his hand on Wilson's shoulder. "Listen, Joe. We know that you've done everything possible for her. And because of that, she's alive right now, so she does have a chance. And we've already got live in, round the clock care for her. You had to clear a path between Carter and Kinch so you could work on her, and I'd bet the farm that right now Carter's sitting as close to her cot as humanly possible, watching her every breath. Poor Carter feels that it's his fault that Finn's injured. It's ironic that we got medical supplies in tonight's airdrop, because if she hadn't been curious about the airdrop, she wouldn't have needed the supplies to begin with."

"Yeah, and if it wasn't for the Nazis, we wouldn't have needed the airdrop," Wilson countered.

Hogan had never heard Joe sound so defeated before, but he could empathize with his overworked medic. "Let's not go down that particular road tonight, Joe. We're here now, doing the best that we can do; but trying to make sense of any of it will only make us angry."

"Good point. Okay, here's a list of symptoms that you need to watch for. If your men notice any of these, or even think they notice any of these, someone is to come get me immediately, no matter what time it is or what I'm doing."

Hogan read the list that Joe handed to him, and didn't notice anything that needed explanation. "Thanks, Joe. I'll give this to whoever the "Night Nurse" is as soon as you leave."

"Don't bother. I also wrote one up for them, and then took the time to explain everything in detail. But they already knew the drill." Joe tried to stifle a yawn, but failed miserably.

"Since there isn't anything else I can do, I'm going to try to get some sleep before roll call." Wilson didn't wait for Hogan to say anything before he turned towards the door and let himself out.

Hogan was tired, but he knew that he wouldn't be getting any sleep before roll call. He couldn't help but go over tonight's events in his mind. Even though they were dealing with a critically injured person, things could've gone so much worse. Instead of five dead Germans, it could've been his three men dead. He tried not to dwell on that fact.

Being in command, he understood that every time he sent anybody out on a mission could be the last time he would ever see them alive. Unfortunately, that went with the territory. But his men were not only just his men; in the short time they'd been working and living together they had become very close, very unique friends. That made what he was contemplating even more difficult. Later today he was going to have to confront Kinch, Newkirk and Carter with the possibility that Finn was an enemy spy. Carter was already acting like Finn was a puppy that had followed him home that he needed to care for, and Newkirk had basically already adopted her. Kinch, being Kinch, was more subdued, but even the strong sergeant could not hide the true concern in his eyes when he watched Wilson work on Finn. Hogan was positive that their objectivity was already compromised. No matter how he approached the subject, he was going to come off looking like the meanest man in the whole world; except, of course, for that egotistical, maniacal, insane monster that threw the whole planet into this tragic mess to begin with.

_Terrible company to be compared to. _

He felt even worse when he realized that he was going to have to send them back out again to retrieve the supplies that were left behind.

"_At least by then Newkirk will have completely thawed out."_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Hogan unconsciously wrapped his arms across his chest and began to pace again. Usually that helped him to think things through, but since he had many more questions than answers about their injured guest, and concerns of how her presence would disrupt their missions, and worst of all, possibly put the welfare of his men; Hell, the entire camp, in jeopardy, he became frustrated when nothing but more questions came to mind. He grabbed his jacket and cap and left the barracks for a breath of fresh air; constantly aware of the searchlights and guards. Five minutes later, it started to snow.

Hogan stopped walking and just watched the flakes drop to the frozen earth. He used to love the snow. As a kid, he would go sledding down Gallows Hill every chance he could, even though it was an obstacle course with the occasional tombstone, bench, and tree that needed to be maneuvered around. The kids all knew how to avoid crashing into them, but the adults would always chase them away whenever they were discovered. Hogan smiled, thinking back to how much more fun the chance of getting caught made each run down the hill. Now he has nightmares about he and his men getting caught.

Schultz, being on guard duty that night, eventually noticed Hogan walking outside. He knew that even when "monkey business" was not going on, Hogan still carried the huge burden of the welfare of all the prisoners in Stalag 13, so Schultz allowed him some time alone. But he became worried when Hogan stopped and simply stood looking off to the trees outside the barbed wire; the snow settling on Hogan's cap and shoulders. After a few minutes, Schultz walked up to the solitary man, but Hogan didn't acknowledge him. He just stared out, deep in thought as the snow continued to fall.

"Colonel Hogan, is everything alright? Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan didn't move. Only his breath swirling in the cold wind revealed him as living. Schultz didn't want to intrude on Hogan's thoughts, but he was becoming more concerned as the weather quickly deteriorated. Timidly the sergeant placed his hand on Hogan's shoulder.

"Colonel Hogan, please come out of the cold. You will catch a chill out here, or worse. You should not be outside of the barracks after lights out anyway. Go inside. Your men need you well, not to mention the Commandant is a bigger pain in the neck when any of the prisoners are sick."

Hogan heard the genuine concern in Schultz's voice, but he still did not move. A heavy sigh did escape his lips though. "Schultz, when did I become one of them?"

Perplexed but relieved that Hogan was finally responding to him, Schultz answered, "One of who?"

"Them, Schultz. You know, somebody who stops everybody from having any fun. A boring, old, stick in the mud who only follows rules and regulations; who only worries about hazards and does not believe in possibilities, who trusts nobody."

Before Schultz had a chance to think, he said, "When did you become a german officer?"

Hogan chuckled and turned to Schultz. "Thanks, Schultz. I needed that." He walked back to the relative warmth of Barracks 2.

Perplexed, Schultz momentarily watched Hogan as he walked away. "Needed what? What did I say?"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"No, sir! No! London's wrong! You're wrong… sir! Sorry, but you just are. You weren't there! You can't know Finn like we do. London wasn't there! How could they know anything about anybody? For Pete's sakes, they're 500 miles away from here!"

Hogan figured that Carter would not like hearing his concerns about Finn being a spy. He just didn't figure on Carter voicing his own concerns so forcefully. Hogan had not seen that side of his young sergeant before. Carter was already distressed by having to leave Finn's side for morning roll call, but when he, Kinchloe and Newkirk were called into Hogan's quarters immediately afterward, he could not contain his exasperation.

"Carter, you don't know Finn! You feel sorry for her. You feel protective of her. You feel worried for her. You feel responsible for her. You don't, however, KNOW her. Nobody does…"

Carter interrupted Hogan, "Finn needs our help, Colonel. She's all alone, sir. No folks. No home. There's a war going on out there, you know! She's just a kid, sir, and I know that's ALL she is. She's no more a spy than I am… er… maybe that's not the best example, but she's NO spy!"

With that, Carter stiffly saluted, abruptly turned, and left Hogan's quarters. He strode straight to the bunk that hid the tunnel entrance, and forcefully hit the mechanism to open it, not waiting for the bunk to completely open before he jumped down the ladder.

The snow falling outside Hogan's window had a gentling, muffling quality on the world, making Carter's outburst that much more conspicuous. Kinchloe and Newkirk also thought that London was mistaken, but Carter had voiced his feelings on the matter so forcefully, they not only were shocked into silence by his reaction, they also didn't have a chance to comment before Carter had unexpectedly left the room. They did understand why Hogan had suspicions about Finn though, and they knew that Hogan was simply protecting them as well as the entire camp. However, Hogan was their commanding officer, so they also knew that short of disobeying a direct order, they would have to do, or not do, whatever Hogan said, or ordered.

But all of this caution might be for naught, and Newkirk knew that Carter realized that was a distinct possibility, so breaking the awkward silence that now filled the small room, Newkirk spoke up for his friend. "Blimey. Carter didn't mean any disrespect, Colonel. He's just so worried about Finn is all. He feels responsible for what happened to 'er."

Hogan regarded the two uneasy men remaining in the room. Some sleep, plenty of hot coffee and cigarettes appeared to be Newkirk's prescription for recovery, but neither he or Kinchloe could hide how uncomfortable they now felt. The Travelers Aid Society was still in its infancy, so they did not know how Hogan was going to respond to Carter's outburst. Little did they know that Hogan himself really didn't know how he was going to respond either. He knew what the brass would expect him to do, but Stalag 13 was anything but textbook military, and he didn't mind Carter's behavior… much. Actually, Hogan was pleased to finally see Carter voice his opinion on something he felt strongly about. Considering how dangerous and unpredictable their line of work was, Hogan thought it extremely important to keep the lines of communication open between all of the core group, just maybe without so much furor.

Newkirk didn't need to tell him that Carter meant no disrespect, but it was heartening to see Newkirk stand up for Carter, because at times it appeared that Carter annoyed Newkirk by just being Carter. And anyway, Hogan had too many serious things to deal with to let something as minor as that upset him; but his men didn't know him that well yet, and after all, they did view him as an officer, _their_ commanding officer. Hogan hoped that they would eventually get to know him so well that they would feel totally comfortable with him, but again, they hadn't been together for very long.

Unexpectedly, an unfortunate thought popped into his head. _Did I just jinx this whole operation by thinking in the long term? _

Hogan shook his head in an effort to erase the thought, but failed. _Where did THAT come from, and why is the hair on the back of my neck standing up?_

Kinchloe and Newkirk's expressions confirmed that they had witnessed Hogan's silent battle with his thoughts. "Gov'nor, somethin' wrong?"

"Yeah, Colonel. Can we help?" Kinchloe asked.

Not that he had planned for it to happen, but that was exactly what Hogan needed to break the tension. "Well fellas, I'm glad you asked. There's still the matter of retrieving the rest of the air drop supplies…"

"Colonel, there's already a foot of snow on the ground, and it's still snowing!"

"What? You've got to be joking! It's a bleedin' blizzard out there! I barely got the feelin' back in me fingers and you want me to go back out?"

"Not until tonight, Newkirk. You have to go because you're the one who knows where the supplies are. By then you'll be completely thawed out and it will have stopped snowing."

It did Hogan's heart good to hear enthusiastic objections fill the room instead of the uneasy silence of earlier. Little did Hogan or anybody else know that it would not stop snowing till the next day.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Andrew? Are you okay, mate? You blew outta the Colonel's office so fast as to suck all the air out with you. Like a bloody tornado you were. Surprised the lot of us, I dare say."

Newkirk had followed Carter down to Stalag 13's newest hospital ward; a small side room that, when the digging is finished, would be the connecting tunnel to barrack 3, but had quickly been converted into a makeshift hospital room for Finn, after Wilson and Hewitson finished doing all that they could. It was away from all of the hustle and noise of the radio room where she had first been brought to, but close enough so that anybody in the radio room could easily hear Finn if she called out. Unfortunately, Finn hadn't even opened her eyes yet.

Carter didn't look up when Newkirk arrived. He was quietly talking to Finn, holding her hand. Much to Newkirk's surprise, Carter had removed his gloves. Newkirk couldn't remember a single time when he had seen Carter, outside of the shower room, without his gloves on. Newkirk pulled up a chair and sat facing Carter. Even in the low light, Newkirk saw the worry in Carter's eyes. Hoping to ease his friend's troubled mind, Newkirk continued. "You know, mate, people are going to start talking; you spendin' so much time alone with Finn 'ere. She'll either be spoiled from all yer attention, or driven mad by it."

Carter stopped talking to Finn, but he didn't respond to Newkirk for quite a while. Softened voices trickled in from other areas in the tunnels, but nothing distinct. Finally, a heavy sigh filled the little room, and Carter broke the companionable silence. "I felt just awful when Finn said that she didn't have any family… just awful. Everybody needs somebody who looks out for them, you know? Somebody who loves them, and cares for them. I mean, even though we're not real family, we still look out for each other. That really helps… even in a P.O.W. camp it, makes me feel better… like I belong somewhere, you know? I don't want her to ever again feel alone in the world."

It broke Newkirk's heart to hear the sadness in Carter's voice.

"So, I figured that I'd just talk to Finn. Let her know that she's not alone anymore. I figured that…that if she heard a friendly voice, it would make her feel better, make her want to work hard to come back, give her the strength to open her eyes… if she'd just open her eyes…"

Newkirk decided that he was not going to dash Carter's hopes by restating what Wilson had told them about how dire Finn's condition was, so it was his turn to let out a sigh. Leaning over to give Carter's knee a reassuring pat, he said, "Andrew, that's a smashin' idea, and I'm certain that Finn agrees with you, so don't let me interrupt you. How about me staying 'ere with you a bit, though, just to keep you company?"

When Carter looked up at Newkirk, surprise and appreciation filled Carter's eyes. "Gee thanks, Newkirk. That's swell."

"Don't mention it, Andrew. And I hate to break it to you, but birds love me accent. If any voice is going to pull Finn back from oblivion to the land of the livin', it'll be my suave, debonair, sensuous voice graced with an English accent, speaking the King's proper English, not your American dribble."

Carter was going to protest, but Wilson entered Finn's room. He brushed off the more persistent snow left on his shoulders before he walked over to the cot. "Hi, guys. Mind making some room so I can check on our favorite patient?"

Carter and Newkirk stood up and backed away so that Wilson could work.

"It's good to see how well you're watching over Finn, but it really only takes one person at a time."

"I'm not too sure about that, Wilson." Newkirk said. "I'm 'ere to watch over Carter too. To make sure 'e doesn't steal me girl's heart."

"What? Newkirk! I'd never… I mean…Wilson, really, I'm just holding her hand; honest! Hey! What do you mean, _your_ girl?"

Newkirk slipped a sly wink at Wilson before engaging Carter in some friendly, mood-lifting banter. They didn't stop until Wilson stood up.

"Well?" they said in unison, looking at Wilson.

"I don't know if I'm more surprised or pleased, but Finn seems to be responding to the penicillin and your bedside manner. She's not out of the woods yet, but…"

"Gee thanks, Wilson! That's great to hear!" Carter said as he enthusiastically sat back down, picked up Finn's hand, and started talking to her again.

Newkirk gently guided Wilson out of the tiny room so he could hear all that Wilson had to say. He wanted Carter to enjoy what little good news Wilson had to offer without hearing any of the negative possibilities. "Finn's temperature has not gotten any higher, and her bleeding hasn't resumed. All good news. I won't relax though until she's conscious and on the mend. Right now, she's just holding on, so no letting up on your vigilance."

Suddenly, Kinchloe's voice could be heard from the radio room. "Damn! What's wrong with the antennae? It won't crank up!"


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Hogan sensed the tension immediately when he entered the radio room. "Kinch, what's the problem?"

Frustrated, Kinch replied, "What's not the problem would be an easier question, sir. Weather effects radio waves, and the blizzard out there is the worst I've ever seen; but that doesn't explain why I can't raise our antennae."

A quick glance was all Hogan needed to confirm that his second in command had done everything possible to fix the problem from this end; tools and spare parts were strewn around the work area, and the concentration creases in Kinchloe's forehead almost looked painful. And anyway, Hogan only knew the barest minimum on the mechanics of how a radio actually worked, so he would not have been able to assist much with the repairs. He simply relied on the expertise of Kinch to keep it in running order. From the looks of things, his sergeant had, until now, felt confident enough in his abilities not disappoint his colonel.

Working on 30 hours since he last slept, Hogan didn't mask his frustration well. Pinching the bridge of his nose and hugging his chest, he let out a sigh.

_We must contact London or the Underground to see if they have any new information on the double agent. Until we hear from them, we don't know if our guest is a murderer who could take down the entire operation if she were to somehow escape… Should I have ordered Wilson to have done nothing for Finn…leave it all up to fate? No! Where did that thought come from? Not only would that just be wrong, my men would hate me for it, and I wasn't raised like that."_

"Colonel?"

"Hmm? Sorry, Kinch, what did you say?"

"For once I'm glad to be down in the tunnels. Word is that the storm is getting worse."

"Yeah, that's what it feels like to me too. I didn't think it was possible, but it's actually getting colder as the day progresses."

"That could explain the problem with the antennae. If it gets too cold outside, the hydraulic fluid in the flag pole will freeze. If that happens, the antennae can't move. I really hope that's what's wrong."

Hogan saw an interesting mix of hope and concern on Kinchloe's face. "Something tells me that I'm going to regret asking, but why would frozen hydraulic fluid be a good thing?"

"If that's all it is, then all we have to do is wait for warmer weather. The antennae will work without any repairs needed."

Hogan interrupted. "This is just the beginning of winter, Kinch, and it's my very first winter here. I hope I'm wrong, but it might not warm up enough till spring."

"I doubt that, sir. I'm thinking that today's temperature is a fluke."

"Okay, so if it's not frozen hydraulic fluid, what else could be the problem?"

"The wind could've bent or even blown the flagpole off the roof. If that happens, and the goons get to it first, they'll find our antennae."

"And one minute later they'll be knocking down our door, guns drawn. We can't let that happen. Just before I came down here, I tried looking out my window. The blizzard has triggered a whiteout. I couldn't see a thing."

"Hopefully the bad weather will keep the Germans inside. Colonel, what do you want me to do?" Kinch asked.

Hogan patted Kinchloe's shoulder encouragingly, "Keep transmitting, Kinch. I know that it's probably futile, but we've got to get more information about that double agent, and right now, the radio is the only way that'll happen. I really don't like not knowing if our new houseguest will try to murder us in our sleep if given half a chance." Kinchloe startled at Hogan's words, but choose to say nothing.

"Maybe the antennae will transmit far enough without being extended to its full height. Maybe the snow won't affect transmission either. Maybe…"

"Okay, Colonel. Will do." Kinchloe began broadcasting when Hogan turned away. "Goldilocks to Papa Bear. Goldilocks to Papa Bear. Come in, Papa Bear."

As Hogan climbed the ladder, he heard Carter's soft voice from Finn's room, having a one-way conversation about how much fun he had making snowmen back home. Shortly after, Hogan was pouring himself a cup of coffee in the main room of barrack 3, when a real-life snowman burst through the door, sending the cards that Newkirk and Olsen were playing with, flying across the table in a blast of frigid air.

"Cor blimey, Shultz! Shut that bleedin' door before we freeze our arses clear off. Where were you brought up, a ruddy barn?" Newkirk grumbled.

"And don't you even think about brushing off all that snow in here!" LeBeau warned as he began to sweep the snow Shultz had tracked in towards the door.

On the short walk from Klick's office to Hogan's barrack, Shultz had become covered with a thick layer of snow, and his chubby face was chapped red from the wind.

"Aw come on, fellas. Lighten up on poor Shultz. It's not his fault that it's snowing." Hogan chided.

"Maybe not, sir, but it's his fault that the little bit of warmth in 'ere is now blown all the way to the Eastern Front!" Newkirk groused.

"Thank you, Colonel Hogan. You are an officer and a true gentleman, unlike the Englander." Shultz wagged a gloved finger at Newkirk.

Hogan put the cup of coffee he had just poured into Shultz's shivering hands. "Danke, Colonel."

"Shultz, what are you doing out in this weather?" Hogan asked as he guided their favorite German towards the door.

After taking a few sips of coffee, Shults turned around to face the men. "Kommandant Klink's orders are that everybody is confined to barracks until further notice. That also means no food will be available in the mess hall. The Kommandant does not want any men to get lost outside and freeze to death. I couldn't see five feet in front of myself walking over here, and the wind is so strong that it blew me off my feet. So please, Colonel Hogan, no monkey business. For once, behave, stay inside and stay alive."

"Musta been a record breakin' gust to blow you off your feet, Shultzie." Newkirk quipped.

"Jolly Joker! This is serious! I have a rope tied around my waist to I won't get lost, but it didn't help me keep my footing out there." Shultz countered.

"We'd invite you to stay here with us, Shultz, but we barely have enough Red Cross candy bars left to go around for us good guys." Hogan explained.

"Yeah, Shultz. You don't want to have a repeat of the doomed Donner Party, now do you? Especially being one of the bad guys, and with having so much meat on your bones, you would feed us for weeks!" Olsen warned.

Hogan picked up where Olsen left off. "That's right, Shultz. It was 100 years ago this month. They were trapped in a horrible blizzard… starving… with no other option but to eat each other! Cannibalism, Shultz! And just guess who those starving pioneers ate first?"

By this time, Shultz's eyes were filled with fear and suspicion. "Who, Colonel Hogan? Who? But don't tell me that they ate a friendly, fat, neutral German first."

"You're right, Shultz. They didn't. But that's ONLY because one wasn't available." With an evil gleam in his eyes, Olsen stepped up to the frightened sergeant and poked him in his ribs a few times. "There's a lot of juicy meat under all that fat."

"Please, Colonel Hogan! Don't tell me anymore!" Shultz took a hurried sip from the coffee cup, then handed it to Olsen. Without another word, he opened the door and braved the blizzard.

Hogan, Olsen and a few other prisoners were chuckling, but Newkirk and LeBeau were totally confused.

"Quelle etait la fete Donner?"* LeBeau asked in a hushed voice to nobody in particular.

Newkirk looked from Hogan to Olsen. "What? You're trying to tell us that some crazy pioneers ate each other? That's barbaric, that is! Musta not been a single Brit among the 'ole lot.

"Who knew that all we have to do to get Shultz to leave is to tell him scary stories?" Hogan mused.

"Yeah, Colonel. Unfortunately, some of American history is pretty unbelievable, but it does come in handy."

Both Hogan and Olsen chuckled when they looked at the incredulous expressions of Newkirk and LeBeau's faces.

"That's right! And you two better not forget that, the next time you're thinking about questioning an order!" Hogan threatened the two Europeans staring at him, but winked at Olsen when he turned to go into his office.

"Blimey…"

*What happened to the Donner party?


End file.
